Daily Archives: March 13, 2009

Thank fuck it’s Friday. Happy to see the back of this week and have an entire weekend without the prospect of endless car journeys, coffins and what have you.

Last night whilst returning from seeing my bro in a boozer in London Bridge I alighted the tube and reached for my book, which wasn’t there. The bastard thing had fallen out of my bag because I’d unzipped it outside the pub to locate my tobacco and failed to zip it back up; I was only a chapter from the end, which means that I’m going to have to buy the bastard thing for the privilege of 30 minutes reading. What really galls is that after I have to return the book that I borrowed to its owner.

When I arrived at the tube at the other end the tobacco I’d taken from the bag and placed in my jacket after rolling a fag, was fucking missing. It must have slipped out my pocket because in spite of frantic patting and digging around the only thing I was certain wasn’t there was my bloody snout, though I did find an orange Chewit.

Just one thing, if you’re a podgy-faced American woman with a booming voice and a laugh that could curdle paint, do everyone a favour and stay at home, preferably in the garage with a hose attached to the exhaust pipe. My entire tube journey was dominated by this harridan who’d been fucking everywhere and wanted to amaze her 3 dorky (utterly silent, nodding) friends and in turn the carriage (and I shouldn’t wonder the whole of the London Underground) with her ‘knowledge’ and ‘experience’ of ‘life’.

I’ve always hated seasoned travellers, when you’ve the misfortune to meet one you’re usually abroad and instantly they begin harping on about the best fucking places they’ve been to via the most tenuous of comparison (‘Oh I see they serve coffee in china here, in Bhutan they serve coffee in the scooped out stomach cavity of the Northern Leaf-tailed Gecko, dried, of course…well I say coffee, it’s more of a paste derived from the semen of the Green Tree Python… etc) the worst, of course, endless streams of derring do, stomach bugs, guns etc whilst being completely unappreciative of the here and now. I remember this glorious sunset in Florence when I was in my 20’s and some Scottish git in the adjacent table giving a list of the best sunsets he’s ever seen, most of them in war torn regions of West Africa, and completely ignoring the sublime sight in front of his eyes and spoiling the experience for me the fucking twat.

Right, Gerry’s chart is back and a tune from therein. Have good weekends